Want and Wanting
by overboredandselfassured
Summary: His first memory of her was a red-faced toddler wearing a ballet-tutu and a tiara, screaming hellfire because her mother wanted her to get changed for dinner. He realised when was old enough that their parents had planned this all along. Slightly AU.
1. Childhood

Draco scowled and covered his ears, glaring at the source of the noise: a red faced toddler with tangled black hair and eyes too big for her face.

"Come on, Adelaide, be a good girl and get changed for your mother, eh?" the little girl's father coaxed, trying to be patient. "Your tutu needs a wash, anyway."

"NO!" Little Adelaide – Draco presumed – bellowed in reply, stamping her feet. "THE TUTU STAYS ON!"

"I can't deal with this, Raibert," Adelaide's mother wailed, "She's just impossible."

Adelaide's father rolled his eyes. "Takes after her bloody ma' then, doesn't she?" Turning his attention back to his daughter, he crouched down in front of her and sighed. "Ally... You're making a right show of yerself in front of the Malfoy boy, you know. Be a big girl and get changed fer yer Ma'."

"Don't care," Adelaide said petulantly. "Don't want to get changed. Big girls do what they want! I am a big girl and I want my tutu! You can't make me! I'll tell! You're not allowed! No!"

"Ally..." Yaxley tried again, "Come on. Yer gonna make yerself sick, carrying on like this."

"I AM A BALLERINA PRINCESS AND BALLERINA PRINCESSES WEAR TUTUS!" Adelaide screamed, "I AM A BALLERINA! YOU SAID I COULD BE A BALLER-"

_"SHUT UP_!" Draco screamed, having finally had enough, and the girl stopped mid-tantrum to stare at him in wonder.

She tilted her head curiously. Who was this boy who thought he could boss her about? Why were his eyes so fishy and grey? Why was his skin so pale? And why was he angry at _her? _Couldn't he see that she was just trying to make a point?

She smiled and blinked up at him innocently, and, completely taken in, Draco smiled back.

The little girl used this opportunity to pick up the object closest to her – a plastic teapot – and threw it as hard as she could at a bewildered Draco, and laughed with delight when one of the sharp edges nicked his forehead and drew blood.

Draco yelped and Adelaide sighed with satisfaction, reaching up to take her father's hand and allowing him to guide her calmly out of the room, poking out her tongue at a still-bleeding Draco as she did so.

Before he could retaliate, his father intervened by smacking the back of his head. "Don't get involved in things that are none of your business. Off to bed with you. I won't have my _son_ showing me up at dinner."

"But..." Draco protested, "She was shouting! Why does _she_ get to go to dinner and I can't? That's not _fair!_"

"Girls are girls. Boys are boys. Girls scream; boys do not. Girls lose their tempers, boys do not. She is a girl and you are a boy and therein lies the problem. Now go to bed."

And as his father left him alone in the playroom, Draco Malfoy decided, with all the wisdom of a four year old, that he absolutely _hated _girls.

* * *

><p>"What are <em>you<em> staring at?" Draco hissed, and the girl raised an eyebrow.

"Not sure, but it's ugly and staring right back," she replied lazily, looking down at the necklace that was gripped in her hands.

He recognised her now – she was the screaming toddler that he'd encountered a little over a year ago – although this time she was wearing a green frilly party dress with her scowl rather than a muddied pink tutu, and her hair was in an elegant little chignon rather than loose and knotted.

She was four now and he was five, and he was still altogether unimpressed with her.

He caught a glimpse of jewellery in her lap and frowned. "What's that?"

"A string of my mama's pearls." She gave them a meaningful tug and glowered when they remained intact on the string.

"Why are you trying to break them?" he wondered, shifting in his seat to look around; the last thing he wanted was any of his school friends seeing him talking to a girl.

Rolling her eyes with the gravity of someone much older, Adelaide sighed. "_Because_ my mama said I had to wear them and I don't like being told what to do."

Draco scoffed. "You're such a pathetic baby, Adelaide."

She sniffed. "Don't care."

"You will care when your father catches you," he retorted, "You'll get in trouble."

He stiffened when she grinned wickedly. "I never get into trouble."

There was a snapping noise and Adelaide gasped as pearls scattered in all directions, slapping a hand over her mouth as people began to slip on the tiny little balls. A helpless giggle escaped her mouth and Draco couldn't help but laugh along with her.

* * *

><p>"... You can't catch me, Papa!" she shrieked gleefully, hiding behind a tree.<p>

The adults watched on with amusement as the notoriously bad tempered Raibert Yaxley chased his little girl around the grounds of Malfoy Manor.

"She's the apple of his eye," he heard his mother murmur softly; "He just adores her, doesn't he?"

Draco frowned disapprovingly at the girl; she had rosy cheeks, tangled black hair, scuffed shins and an altogether _messy_ look about her. He hated to be messy. In spite of his morals, a part of Draco's seven year old self longed to join in the fun, longed for his own father to chase _him_ rather than constantly seeming irritated by his very presence.

"Come and play, Draco!" Adelaide called; giggling as her father finally caught her and began to tickle her. "Come on, come and play with me!"

He narrowed his eyes. "Fat chance, Yaxley. I don't play with girls."

Adelaide glared at him, her six year old brain alert to the scorn in his voice. "You're so _boring._ You never want to play, you only want to sit and read and be _quiet. _Unless it's stupid old Quidditch. You're just going to get fat and then you'll be even _more_ boring because you won't be able to play even if you wanted to, because you'll be so fat that you'll not be able to lift your fat bottom off of your stupid boring chair!"

"_Adelaide,_" her father said sharply, "That's not a nice thing to say."

Her eyes slid over to her father and she shrugged. "I _won't _say sorry. I don't care."

* * *

><p>He was hiding behind a rack of robes, peeping out as a familiar looking little girl adjusted her father's tie.<p>

"We'll take these," he heard her say to the shop assistant, "And you can stop making moon eyes at my Father, you classless desperate bint. He's _married_, and even if he wasn't he would have much better taste than a chubby squib like you. Honestly - my mother was _just _in here, don't you have any dignity at all?"

Draco grinned, eagerly awaiting the stern reprimand that he was sure was coming, but Yaxley merely shook his head at his little girl.

"Ye need t' be more polite to strangers, Ally," he chortled, ruffling her hair.

From behind his rack, Draco dismayed. He started as the robes were swept out of the way, and was surprised to find himself staring into the eyes of an unimpressed Adelaide. Her hair was longer and her eyes didn't seem as huge on her face, and Draco scowled as she raised a dismissive eyebrow at him.

"It's rude to eavesdrop and creepy to spy," she said, and sauntered off.

* * *

><p>It was the emotion in her eyes that freaked him out. Or, rather, the lack of.<p>

Her usually rosy-cheeked face was pinched and drawn, her usual smile replaced by a solemn lips pressed tightly together in a firm line.

Her black dress pulled away all of her colour.

Even her usually-wild hair seemed tamed by a thick, restraining plait that reached down to her waist.

It was the first time that he'd ever seen her to be so serious. He'd seen her happy, he'd seen her furious, he'd seen her amused, but never _this_. Never _lifeless._

Her jaw was clenched and her small hand was dwarfed by her father's bigger one.

It was her absolute refusal to show weakness that got to him the most. Her mother had just died, and yet her face was dry, her eyes tearless, and only the slight shaking of her hands gave away the fact that she was bothered at all. It wasn't normal for a seven year old to appear so numb, and Draco could not take his eyes from the spectacle that she was.

Her 'strength' drew praise from the adults, but Draco knew better. She wasn't being strong; on the inside she was falling apart. Not that he had asked her, but he knew. It was a defence mechanism that pureblooded children developed at one time or another – to show them that you cared was weakness, and weakness was failure.

Yaxley, too, showed little emotion, crying only silent tears that trickled down his cheeks and onto his sombre black robes, until Adelaide had wordlessly given him a handkerchief and squeezed his hand with hers.

...

She hadn't left her father's side the whole day, except to replenish his brandy or fetch him a half-hourly miniature sandwich to soak up the alcohol.

It was her silence that made Draco the most uncomfortable, the way that she kept her eyes averted and did not engage with anyone. Her stance next to her father's left was stoic and protective, and her eyes flitted around as if constantly assessing for a threat.

Her mother had been killed in a horrific freak accident involving lots of Muggles, lots of cars and a lot of deaths. He couldn't recall the exact details, but it had been a huge event in both the Muggle and Magical world.

Her father's malicious ranting about Muggle motor vehicles and Muggle pride and how Muggles were filth made him want to cover his ears, especially when Raibert started to attack Muggleborns, calling them 'Mudbloods'. He'd heard that word before, and it made him nauseous.

Adelaide caught his eye, and the brokenness he saw in her gaze made him shiver.

* * *

><p>"Hello Draco," she said quietly, opening the door to her father's office wider so that Draco could slip inside. "My father won't be long."<p>

It had been five weeks since her mother had died, and in those five weeks she had turned eight. He knew without asking that she wasn't feeling any better about what had happened, but he did anyway.

"How are you?"

She shrugged. "I'm fine."

He didn't push it. "Good."

She glanced at him disinterestedly, and Draco was struck by how much the purple rings beneath her eyes resembled bruises.

Adelaide came alive when Lucius Malfoy entered her father's office, standing and beaming up at the older man. "Would you like a drink, Mr Malfoy? Or a cigar? My father has some Cognac and a box of Cubans."

"That would be lovely, Adelaide. Thank you," Lucius replied, shooing Draco out of his chair and retaking his son's place.

"My father will be along soon – he was just catching up with my aunt Dolores," Adelaide went on, "He's been frightfully busy lately."

Once she had provided Lucius with a drink and a cigar, Adelaide stood in a calm silence by the door; hovering pathetically like a house-elf, in case Mr Malfoy should need anything.

His father, much to Draco's disgust, was utterly charmed by her demure smile, her effortless etiquette and deferential treatment to her elders.

_"A sign of good breeding and an excellent up-bringing," _Lucius informed Draco upon their departure, _"Exactly how I would want any daughter of mine to behave."_

Draco hated her, then, for pleasing his father – something that he rarely did.

* * *

><p>"Don't you <em>ever<em> call me that again!" She screamed, thrashing against Draco's arms as she tried to get at the boy who had so grievously insulted her. "I am _not _a Hufflepuff! I am _not _weak! _You're _the Hufflepuff! Look at you! Bawling your eyes out like a pathetic _baby_! _You're _the weak one!"

Theo – Draco's unfortunate friend – was crying like a little girl, blood pouring from his nose from where Adelaide had punched him. Theo opened his mouth to say something scathing in return, but Draco shook his head to dissuade him.

"Just go, Theo. She'll only hurt you more."

In spite of the blood and tears, Theo scoffed. "She's a _girl."_

"And she's _already_ broken your nose," Draco pointed out impatiently. "Just go."

...

He restrained her until she had sufficiently calmed down – and until Theo was a safe distance away – and then he let her go, pulling her to sit down next to him on the swings.

It was funny, though, that a fragile-looking eight year old girl with perfectly curled ebony hair, freckles and massive blue eyes could inflict so much damage to a well-built nine year old boy with only a single well-placed fist to the face.

"You can't just punch everyone who insults you," he said, rolling his eyes at the thought. "Your behaviour really is atrocious."

"Should I be more like you?" Adelaide retorted, "Should I let people just say what they want about me and then cry about it to my father afterwards? No, I stick up for myself. I don't need my father to fight my battles."

Draco stood up and looked at her with disgust. "Suit yourself. I was only trying to help."

"Well, I don't need your help!" She said fiercely, "I don't need _anyone_."

* * *

><p>"You're going to Hogwarts in September," she said, and it wasn't a question.<p>

Draco shrugged. "It might be Durmstrang. I haven't decided. Mother wants me to go to Hogwarts, though." He turned to face her and raised an eyebrow, feeling altogether superior to this skinny girl who was four months his junior. "Why?"

"I was just wondering," she replied with a shrug, shifting in her chair.

Draco nodded and sat back, pretending to stare out into the crammed ballroom when actually he was studying her appearance. It had been a year since he had last seen her, when she'd punched Theodore Nott in the face for calling her a weak Hufflepuff.

Her back was straight, her shoulders back, and her legs were crossed at the ankle by the front-left leg of her chair. Her head was held high, her chin thrust up, and yet her eyes were lowered. Her dress was green velvet trimmed with silver lace; traditionally Slytherin, traditionally _predictable, _and not at all _her_.

All in all, she gave the impression of a demure, well bred young lady, and Draco was impressed.

"I haven't seen you for a while," he said conversationally, and Adelaide shrugged.

"My father said you were a bad influence."

Draco scoffed. "If I remember rightly, it was _you_ who punched someone. Not me."

Adelaide looked up and caught the eye of Theodore Nott, who glared at her. "Speaking of the devil, your little friend doesn't seem very impressed that you're associating with the girl who broke his nose." Draco looked up at her and Adelaide nudged her head in Theo's direction. "My father said that the boy had to go to Mungo's to get it fixed."

"He did," Draco agreed with a smirk, "You do have a dreadfully good right hook."

They shared an amused glance, and Adelaide sighed. "I want another piece of cake, but father says too much sugar is bad for the teeth and the disposition."

"My father said the same," Draco sympathised, "And he's been guarding the buffet table ever since."

Adelaide stood up and bit her lip. "Come on. I've got an idea."

...

Two hours later, Draco and Adelaide pushed away the now-empty plate of cake and grinned sleepily. Adelaide peeked out from underneath the buffet table and smirked at the sight of Lucius and her father lolling drunkenly in their chairs, both men struggling to hold a conversation due to their level of inebriation.

"I feel a bit sick," Draco admitted, and Adelaide let out a small burst of laughter.

"It was worth it, though."


	2. Draco's First Year

"I don't see why I have to be here," Draco muttered, wincing when his father hit him on the shoulder with a rolled up programme of the evenings events. "It's my Christmas holidays. I shouldn't have to come to stupid theatre performances! I should be having a good time with my _friends_, not sitting here."

"We are _all _here because Raibert Yaxley is a very good friend of mine and he invited us _all, _you included," Lucius replied scathingly, shaking his head. "Now be a good boy and find our seats."

Narcissa glanced wearily between her son and husband. "Draco, do try and be a bit more cheerful. I thought you and Adelaide were friends?"

"I've only met her a handful of times," Draco pointed out, "I didn't even know she danced."

Lucius tutted, and Narcissa gave him a stern look. "And you be a bit nicer to your _son_, will you? You can hardly expect him to be thrilled about two hours of ballet – he's an eleven year old boy!" She swatted his shoulder with a gloved hand and Lucius sighed in defeat.

"Ah! Lucius! You made it! And you managed to convince Draco t' come along! Champion!"

Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes as his father extended a hand for Yaxley to shake. "We wouldn't have missed it, Raibert. We are _all_ very much looking forward to seeing young Adelaide perform. _Aren't we, _Draco?"

Draco forced a smile and shook the hand that Yaxley offered. "Good evening, Mr Yaxley, sir."

...

After twenty minutes of small talk, the group made their way to their seats – a private box on the second floor of the theatre, with a perfect view of the stage. Draco was grateful when he realised that his seat was between the wall and his mother, and he leaned his head against the wall and stared tiredly towards the dark stage.

...

As much as he hated to admit it, Draco was captivated by the ballet performance. He couldn't figure out which one Adelaide was, but then, with scantily clad females with perfect bodies leaping about all over the stage, the Yaxley girl had slipped his mind within minutes.

But it wasn't just the girls that caught his attention; to his surprise, he was able to follow the story of the performance with ease in spite of the fact that there was no dialogue.

It was a story about the battle between faerie folk of both good and evil, both fighting for control of a forest. The villain was a beautiful woman with auburn hair – the bad nymph – and she ruled night time within the forest with an iron fist. The hero – a goodly tree sprite - was a man who looked altogether too large and muscular to be wearing tights, and it was his daughter and the son of the villain that arranged the battle, just so that they would be free to be friends.

It was rather beautiful, to be honest, though Draco would never have said it out loud.

At the end of the performance, when Adelaide came out to take her bows, Yaxley leapt to his feet, clapping and whistling like a mad man. Draco was surprised to see that Adelaide had been dancing the part of the hero's daughter – one of the main characters. He kissed her on the cheek afterwards and she blushed.

"You dance good," he said awkwardly, shuffling his feet.

Adelaide gave him a small smile. "Thank you."

"S'alright."

"How's Hogwarts?" she asked him, and he shrugged.

"S'alright."

She raised an eyebrow. "I hear Harry Potter's there."

Draco scowled. "Yeah."

"Touched a nerve there?" She smirked, and Draco narrowed his eyes. "I heard he refused to shake your hand. Arrogant swine isn't he?"

Draco shrugged. "I couldn't care less."

"Liar," Adelaide accused, smirk still in place.

"Don't tell me you're part of his fan club as well," Draco shook his head in disbelief.

"Nah. Maybe if he'd been in Slytherin it would've been different, but I'm a _Yaxley. _I can't idolise a Gryffindor – my father would kill me." A slightly dreamy look entered her eyes. "Your friend Blaise Zabini, however... _Him _I could idolise."

"Gross. You're like my sister," Draco groaned. "I don't need to hear who you fancy."

She poked out her tongue. "Why? Are you jealous?"

Draco scoffed. "Hardly."

But he was. Just a little bit.

* * *

><p>"Does it <em>have <em>to be Hogwarts, Papa?" Adelaide groaned, and her father sighed heavily.

"Alice, I went t' Hogwarts. My whole family went t' Hogwarts. Don't ye want t' follow the family tradition?"

Adelaide narrowed her eyes. Her father only ever called her 'Alice' when he was trying to get on her good side and when he was drunk, and she senses that this was an occasion where both were true. "Mama's family went to Beauxbatons. Why can't I go there? It's _warmer_."

"I dinnae want my only child t' be in France for 9 months oot the year! Yer Ma' isnae here anymore, why do ye want t' be so far away?!" He sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands, and she knew then that he had definitely had a few drinks. "I dinnae want ye to be so far away, Alice. Please. I know I'm an old man, I know ye'd rather be in a big house in St Tropez with yer Ma's family than stuck in a flat in London with yer old Da', but..."

She sat down beside him and took his hand. "Papa, I don't want to _live _in France. I was just thinking about the weather. And anyway, I like our flat."

It wasn't really a flat. More like a three bedroomed penthouse suite near Tower Bridge that overlooked the Thames and had amazing views of the London skyline, with four bathrooms, office, miniature library, private elevator and a huge terrace complete with Jacuzzi, barbeque facilities and numerous seating areas. It was the perfect 'party pad, and Adelaide loved it. They'd only lived there for a couple of years, and it had been chosen out of necessity rather than amenities, but it felt like home. Their other houses – the Yaxley Manor in the Scottish Highlands and a beautiful villa in the south of France, close to her mother's family – were nice and all, but she really preferred being up in her tower like the little Ballerina Princess that she liked to pretend that she was.

Mournfully, she gave her Beauxbatons letter a last glance. "Alright. Hogwarts it is."

Her father smiled. "Champion. Shall we go out for dinner? To celebrate?"

"Whatever you like, Papa."

At least there was one good thing about going to Hogwarts – she already had her own little army of companions consisting of five pureblooded girls, all sure to be sorted into Slytherin, all well-respected families, all very easy to bend to her will.

* * *

><p>"Young Miss Yaxley will be joining you at Hogwarts in the fall," Lucius commented nonchalantly, taking a sip from his coffee and turning down a corner of the paper to gauge Draco's reaction.<p>

Draco pulled a face. "Does that mean she's going to be following me around until she makes friends?"

Narcissa smiled at his petulance and shook her head. "The girl already has a lot of friends, Draco. All of her friends from ballet, from her prep school, from all of the social events she attends; why, you might even find that she has more friends than you."

He scoffed. "Unlikely."

"Attitude," Lucius chided, raising an eyebrow.


End file.
